I did not know this woman, whose life I feel so connected to now.
I never got to see her face, or look into her eyes.
I never heard her voice, or felt the touch of her hand.
Instead, I see her face when I gaze upon her daughter’s.
I see her eyes look into mine when I turn toward her photograph.
I hear her voice in my ear, when I hear a story being told about her.
I feel her hand on my heart when I think about
how much I care about the
Man that she loved, and who loved her in return.
I did not have the privilege to have you in my circle before
you left this earth.
I am sorry you had to go.